Here's a little something I rediscovered recently. It's anorder of service I did for a friend's wedding back in 1980. Done
freehand, apart (obviously) from a pencil guide underneath each
line of lettering to keep it straight. The lettering itself was done
with an italic fountain pen. It didn't turn out too bad in my
opinion, but, then again, I'm somewhat biased.

Monday, 30 July 2012

I remember (back when I was a lad) raising my hand in class one
day to ask permission to go to the toilet. The teacher must have en-
quired whether I would be 'standing' or 'sitting' because I recall her open-
ing a cupboard and taking out a roll of loo paper, from which she tore offone sheet and handed it to me. I was only 5 years old at the time, but no
way in hell was one sheet of bog roll going to be up to the job required
of it - especially as it was IZAL toilet paper, which was rough on
one side and smooth on the other.

Using the rough side was like scraping your bum with a cheese-
grater, and using the smooth side only smeared any remnants of your
'deposits' all over your nether-cheeks. (Either way, the jaggy edges it ac-
quired when it became scrunched on 'application' almost tore your @rse
apart.) I'm sure this teacher would've used more than one sheet to wipe
her own posterior, so what she was thinking of in doling it out only in
single figures is a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes himself.

Izalmedicated toilet paper had other uses of course. It came in
handy for playing the comb'n'paper (shame on you if you don't know
what I'm talking about), and also as tracing paper for those less artistically
inclined than myself. A couple of years and another primary school later,
I recall one lad coming in one morning with a tracing of RUMPELSTILT-SKIN from his school reading book and trying to pass it off as an original
drawing. The game was up when the sheet of Izal was placed over the page
in the book, revealing him as the bare-faced liar that he was. (And became
renowned for in subsequent years.) "My sister drew it!", he lamely
proclaimed - much to the ridicule of the rest of the class.

Looking at the picture at the start of this post, I can even remember

what the paper smelled like - before use, I mean. It had a slight whiff

of disinfectant that was not altogether unpleasant, and the memory of

it whisks me right back to my childhood. It was even commonly used in

homes, not just schools and hospitals. Having said that, however, thank

goodness for the advent of the ANDREX puppy and the soft, cushioned

toilet rolls with which it so playfully romped. Life is full of enough trials
and tribulations without the performance of one's necessary toilet
ablutions being yet one more of them, I'm sure you'll agree.

And, in case you want to relive a moment from your youth, Izal

medicated toilet roll and tissues are still available online from various

suppliers. Go on, treat your botty to a good ol' fashioned scrape at the

Well, strictly speaking, the above drawing isn't a sketch, but I thought
you might like to see it anyway. I drew it back in 1979 while working in
my local library, for a colleague who was heavily involved with the SNP.
An election was upcoming, so he asked me to produce something which
illustrated the Scottish Lion Rampant awakening after a long sleep - just
in case, you understand. I drew this quickly with a Tempo felt-tip pen,
but I could've saved myself the bother - his party did diddly-squat.

Had the SNP won, the intention was to publish this in newspapers,
but it would really have needed to be in colour to work properly. If
you look closely, you'll see that the top bedsheet is the Union Flag
(commonly, but erroneously, called the Union Jack - unless it's fly-
ing from the mast of a ship), with the Scottish Saint Andrew's Flag
underneath. As far as symbolism goes, it wasn't a bad idea - even if
it was a tad optimistic from that particular party's perspective.

Sunday, 29 July 2012

If, by some magical process, you had one wish, what would you wish
for above all else? Would it be wealth, health, youth, looks, immortality -
or some other aspect which could be yours for the wishing? Sex appeal,
hair, height, charisma, etc., you name it and just imagine you could have
it in a heartbeat.

In the following poem, the writer's wish is abundantly clear -
but what would you wish for?

******

The time hangs heavy on my hands as I think back on bygone days,

When in fair childhood's far-off lands I played beneath Sol's golden rays.
I thought myself immortal then and never spared a thought for death,
For I was just a lad of ten, but now I'm old and short of breath.

With little time in front of me my gaze turns backwards to the past,
And days of glory do I see of happy times I thought would last.
But Time, the one who mocks us all, will have her way as years pass by,
We are but captives in Time's thrall and 'tis appointed that we die.

But in my mind I'm young once more, surrounded by my childhood friends,
And things are as they were before in mystic time that never ends.
There's Tom and Jim and Joe and Bill, restored to youth once more in dreams,
We play again upon that hill which rang with laughs and joyous screams.

They all grew up and went their way; they met and married loving wives,
They gave their all in work and play, they led such rich, fulfilling lives.
There was so much I meant to do, but never seemed to find the time,
And now I sit here whilst I rue that I'm no longer in my prime.

But then as if freed from a trance my reverie comes to a close.
In mirrored-glass I catch a glance and wonder if that old man knows
When he was young he had it all, the whole wide-world lay at his feet;
He should have conquered and stood tall - but now I stoop low in defeat.

My friends are gone, dead many years, and I am left to face my fate,
I try to hold back stinging tears and know I've left things far too late.
I should have made more of my life and not just let it slip away,
And raw regret cuts like a knife for things unsaid I meant to say.

Regret for things I meant to do, but sadly, madly, left undone.
The women that I meant to woo, who might have borne to me a son.
I sat and watched life pass me by as I was left upon the shelf,
And then it was too late to try and I blame no one but myself.

So one truth now I realize, that life is like a bitter pill,
And as I dab tears from my eyes I dream once more of that green hill,
Remembering with poignant joy the happy lad I was at ten -
And wish I was a little boy, if only for one day again.

already been off ill for a day or
two and there was no real point
in going back on the last day be-
fore the weekend. I therefore

remained absent, and - as I was

feeling slightly better as the

morning wore on - my father

took me with him when he

journeyed into Hamilton on

some errand or other.

I also picked up another copy

of The MIGHTY WORLD OfMARVEL #1 that afternoon

(which had been released only the

Saturday before), the second issue

being due out the next day. I well

remember the fun I had comparing

JACK KIRBY's version of the FF's

origin with JOHN BUSCEMA's -

it sure was difficult to decide on

just which interpretation was best,

although Big John's was a tad more

dynamically rendered. Having said

that, he was channelling Jack's solid

story-telling principles through his

own style, so Kirby deserves a

share of the credit, I suppose.

This was ROY THOMAS's
first issue as regular scripter of

the FF. He'd written some fill-in

stories before, of course, when

STAN LEE was on vacation, but
this was his 'debut' as the quartet's
ongoing scribe now that Stan had
been promoted to president and
publisher with little or no time for
writing. At least, that was the plan,
but Rascally Roy's increased duties
as newly appointed editor-in-chief

meant that he soon had to turn the
regular scripting chores over to

someone else. (Step forward

twenty year old boy-genius,

GERRY CONWAY.)

This issue was intended to be
a new beginning for the fabulous
foursome, and the title managed

to offer some respectable stories
before losing its impetus some-
where along the line. Eventually,
the comic began to tread water,
until writer/artist JOHN BYRNE
came on board with issue #232 in
1981. His 'Back to Basics' first
issue succeeded in revitalising the
flagging series and restored some
much-needed credibility to the
cover's famous tag-line: "TheWorld's Greatest Comic

Magazine!" FF fans every-
where were mighty grateful.

However, with that landmark 126th issue back in 1972, the heady
hint of promise hung heavy in the air, and - for a while at least - the
expectations of the faithful were not disappointed.

discover this charming establishment until August of 1999, when I and a

young lady partook of a good old-fashioned 'fry-up' one morning in an

attempt to replenish the energy we had so enthusiastically expended the
night before. Breakfasts cost a little more than 99p by then ('though
still extremely reasonably priced), and I instantly fell in love with
the place. Consequently, I returned as often as I could over
the course of the next couple of years or so.

Imagine my dismay then, when I read in The Daily Record,
dated Saturday, November 3rd, 2001, that the historic eaterie had
closed its doors for the final time. However, exactly a week later, on
the 10th, the same newspaper reported that a new owner had moved the
cafe upstairs. Alas, it was the same in name only - even 'though some of
the staff from downstairs had come with it. The original premises were
turned into a Vodka-Wodka Bar, and the new Grosvenor didn't
last too long before becoming a Mediterranean-style eaterie
called Mimmo's.

(As it turned out, Mimmo's proved to be an excellent restaurant, and

I had many a fine meal there over the years. A few weeks back, however,

I trotted along to treat myself to yet another gourmet delight - only to find

it also had closed. I was informed by staff in the bar downstairs that it had

relocated, and that a new owner would be re-opening the upstairs premises

under another name, but I haven't yet had a chance to get back along and

check the place out. Here's hoping it can continue the fine standard

established by the previous owner. Although I digress.)

So, for all those who remember the Grosvenor Cafe in Ashton Lane,
here's a couple of photos from 2000 to stir up some fond memories for
you. (I'd have taken more, but my camera ran out of film.) The mural on
the wall was printed on the old cafe's menus a little while before it closed,
and I managed to bribe one of the waitresses who went to work upstairs
to part with one she'd kept as a souvenir. One glance at that mural and
it's 1999 once more, and I'm having breakfast with a young lady whose
insatiable appetite was not confined to bangers, beans, bacon and
eggs, regardless of how delicious they happened to be.

Ah, to be young again.

******

Re-reading this today, September 6th, 2013, I'm struck by
the fact that The Grosvenor Cafe has now been gone for a couple
of months short of twelve years. My visits took place over a mere
two year period ('though seems longer than that), but the memories
remain as fresh and as vivid as if they occurred only a few short
months ago. Where on earth does the time go?

Thursday, 26 July 2012

A fascinating site that I'm sure a lot of you will be interested in
perusing can be accessed here. The host of the site (celebheights),ROB PAUL, has met a plethora of stars and celebrities over the years
and, with the aid of photographs, reveals the true heights (or a close
approximation) of various showbiz personalities, which often differ
from their 'official' statistics. (Hell, if they'd 'lie' about their age,
why not about how tall they are?)

Most people will remember her as ROMANA, assistant and fellow
(didn't look like a fellow to me) Time Lord to TOM BAKER'sDOCTORWHO in the long-running BBC science-fiction series. However, I can't help
but think of her as TERRY COLLIER's Finnish girlfriend, CHRISTINA,

in THE LIKELY LADS, the film version of the popular television series in

the '60s and '70s. (The '70s series was called WHATEVER HAPPENED

TO THE LIKELY LADS - without a question mark.)

I'm referring to actress MARY TAMM, who has sadly died from

cancer at the far-too young age of sixty-two. Mary appeared in various

movies, television, and theatre productions, but it's perhaps as Romana

that she'll be best remembered by viewers of a certain age. What's more

important however, is that she'll be remembered as a loving wife, mother,

Wednesday, 25 July 2012

The perception of time has always perplexed me. Let me
give you an example. Under normal circumstances, one would
assume that a period of 20 years to a 60 year old, in retrospect,
should seem, proportionately speaking, the same length of time as 4
years does to a 12 year old; in both cases it's a 3rd of their respective
lives. However, we all know that time seems to pass more quickly the
older one gets, so 20 years to a person in their 60s probably only seems
like 10 at the most, which is a 6th of their life. But one 6th of a 12 year
old's life is 2 years, so wouldn't that seem to him what 20 years feels
like to a 60 year old? That must mean 'though, that 2 years and 4
years appear to be pretty much the same to a 12 year old. Or
does it? See what I mean? It's confusing, isn't it?

However, regardless of whether I can get to grips with under-
standing what I just said or not, one thing I do know. Even if I'm
lucky enough to live for another 50 years or so, it's going to fly by
far more quickly than I'd like it to. It'll have passed before I
even know it's begun. It doesn't seem fair somehow.

Returning from the shops a week or two back, I stopped at a
bench on the outskirts of the park near my home. As I sat gazing
into the distance and enjoying the rest, I was struck by the formation of
the clouds on the horizon, which seemed to me like some vast Olympian
city of the gods hovering in the sky. In my imagination I could see tall,
robed figures, their noble brows adorned with laurel wreaths, strolling
leisurely amongst immense, marbled columns, untroubled by the
cares and woes that so often beset we mere mortals.

The park greenery lay before me like Jack Kirby's NEW GEN-ESIS, while 'SUPERTOWN ' floated overhead. Were they, in some
benign and bemused way, studying we finite beings who live our lives in
the blink of an eye compared to the eons-long span which gods are heir
to? Did they observe me looking longingly at their heavenly haven? Did
kindness touch their hearts for one brief moment and cause them to call
to me, inviting me to stride the streets of their celestial city, there to
spend my days in idyllic pursuits, free from the ravages of time?

Then a dog barked and, alas, the fragile spell was broken.
Returned to reality, I bent and retrieved the shopping bags which
lay at my feet. With one last lingering look at the city in the sky, I
turned and slowly made my way up the hill to where, at journey's
end, a far more humble home awaited me than the one which
had so recently seemed to beckon.

Monday, 23 July 2012

I acquired the above comic many, many years ago. Either the
late '70s or early '80s, but I'm not exactly sure, to be honest. May even
have been a little later than that, but not by much. I say 'comic', but to be
more precise, it seems to have been extracted from a 'parent' publication -
probably ACTION COMICS, I would imagine. It's dated 1976 in the
indicia, and the cover is not glossy - just regular comic paper.

For the 'sketch of the day' today, here's an old pencil sketch
from 1980, which I drew standing up whilst looking down at the
subject - who, incidentally, was reading my copy of HOW To DRAWCOMICS The MARVEL WAY. (Which I got autographed by STANLEE eleven years later.) However, I couldn't be bothered drawing the
book, so I blacked it out to avoid any unnecessary detail. You'll have
to take my word for this I suppose, but it was a perfect likeness
and everybody knew who it was on sight.

The subject was rather gangly and the chair was quite low, so
because of the angle I was observing from, it really did look as if he
was too big for the chair. Perhaps I should add in some background
detail to give a better sense of perspective, but that can wait until I've
watched some paint dry. If you enlarge the picture, you'll see that it
was drawn on the back of some computer print-out paper which
just happened to be lying around in the subject's flat.

Not too bad for ten minutes work.

******

Update: Below is a photo taken around a year or two
after I did the drawing. As you see, just like I said above,
the chair is low and the subject is rather gangly - and the
likeness is spot on. I should draw for Crimewatch.

Sunday, 22 July 2012

Have you ever looked at one of your comics and thought to
yourself "I remember buying that a few years ago", as if it's only a
fairly recent acquisition? Then noticed the date on the cover or in the

indicia and been amazed to rememberl that you purchased it around 30
years back? That's how I feel when I look at certain favourite comics
in a dreamy daze - it often seems that it wasn't so long ago since they
came into my possession, and it can be a shock to the system when
the realization dawns (as it always must) that over half my life
has passed since I first bought them.

This feeling is no doubt compounded by the fact that my comics

are in the same condition as when I first obtained them; if they were

well-thumbed, dog-eared and with covers hanging off the staples - had

an appearance of age in other words - then perhaps I would view them in

their proper context, time-wise. However, because most of my comics

appear to be brand-new, that's a difficult thing to do. The only comics
I have that look their age are ones that were in that condition when
I purchased them - usually back issues from long, long ago.

Anyway, that's enough philosophical profundity for today -
let's get down to the business at hand. Which is, you'll be glad to
hear, appreciating the next six issues of early SPIDER-MAN covers
by STEVE DITKO, as re-presented in MARVEL TALES back in the
1980s. If you're not lucky enough (orrich enough) to have the original
first printings of these stories, then these reprint mags are the next best
thing. So, sit back, cup of tea in hand, and simply salivate at these ex-
quisite pictorial presentations of your friendly neighbour-hood Spider-Man at his very best.

Regular readers may have noticed the occasional responses
to some of my posts by a certain gentleman calling himself Moon-mando. Who is this mysterious and elusive creature of the night,
and why does he appear to have nothing better to do than astound
us with his keen, insightful and thought-provoking comments on
the wit and wisdom so freely bestowed upon Blogger-land
on a daily basis by my good self?

Well, now the secret can be revealed! Moonmando is
none other than a talented guitarist who delights in strumming
his fingers down to the bone in his selfless efforts to entertain all
lovers of good music. Whether it be of the folk, country or clas-
sical variety, Moonmando gives it laldy on your behalf, and can
often be found playing, singing or composing in his own private
studio long into the night, in his all-consuming quest to mas-
ter the intricacies of some musical masterpiece.

But don't take my word for it. Why not click on thislink and see and hear for yourself just how accomplished
he is in his chosen craft? Go on, it'll give you a break from
reading my blog at the very least. (Hey, where the heck
did everyone suddenly go? Fair-weather friends.)

STUDIO 77

About the artist:

From 1985 to 2000 A.D. (little joke there), I contributed to a variety of high profile comics and magazines for various companies.

For IPC/FLEETWAY/EGMONT, I freelanced as a lettering and logo artiston various weekly comics and monthly magazines, and also as a resize comic artistandspot illustratoron pocket books, summer specials and annuals.

ForMARVEL U.K., BLACK LIBRARY, REDAN and USBORNE BOOKS, I again freelanced as a lettering artist, also working as arestoration artistfor MARVEL U.S., restoring and re-creating certain pages of JACK KIRBY art for their MARVEL MASTERWORKS editions.

I also lettered the MARVELMAN sample pages submitted to MARVEL U.S. when they were considering acquiring the character, which - as we all now know - they DID.

Supplied comic strips, cartoons and illustrated advertisements for local business campaigns and newspaper publication on a professional basis since the age of 16. Did my first paid art job for publication at 14 or 15 for Lanarkshire Education Board.

Image Enlargement:

In a few instances some images are featured at full size (or larger) to begin with, so clicking is redundant.

Copyright Notice:

Images remain the property of their respective copyright owners and are used here only for the purpose of review, promotion, and nostalgia.

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In the case of images culled from my own collection where copyright of an item isn't mine, I impose no copying restrictions on fellow bloggers.

(Although, if you don't allow copying on your own site, then you really shouldn't be copying from others, should you?)

And while you can credit this blog if you like, it's not mandatory. Who has time to make notes of every casually visited site during an idle browse of the internet?

In the case of anyone copying images of my own artwork and calligraphy, I affirm my right to be identified as the creator, and any such copying should not be for the purpose of monetary or material gain. (Unless it's mine.)

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Please also note that this blog is not sponsored by, affiliated with, or connected to, any organisation, business, or group, and is wholly independent.

Discerning Members:

Disclaimer:

Please note that the opinions expressed on this site by myself should not be presumed to be shared or endorsed by any members unless they so specify. And that works both ways.